


Acceptance

by Sans_Virtuosity



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, I'll go back to this one to polish it up I swear, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 08:30:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2615132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sans_Virtuosity/pseuds/Sans_Virtuosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spirits may not fear their own deaths, but a friend is another matter entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> I swore I'd post this before Inquisition's release, so here it is! (Just in time, really.)
> 
> Every night for the past year or so, I've consigned to writing at least 750 words of fiction. So I end up with a lot of random practice stories like this one. I've decided to start sharing them with AO3, since the fandom has been so awesome. Gotta' give back to the community and all.
> 
> Enjoy! (Hopefully!)

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Are you going to die, Tairen?"

  
Cole was walking a few paces behind the Inquisitor, and his voice was muffled through the pile of bedrolls he was carrying, but Lavellan heard him clear as day. Often, she would catch him speaking aloud, forgetting that he could be heard by those in camp. Any other day, she would've waited for him to first repeat himself if he expected a response, but the question was just begging for an answer, she couldn't help herself.

  
"I should hope not! A nasty thing, death is. All inevitable and melancholy. No, I'd rather stay perfectly alive, thank you." She replied, smirking all the while. But Cole stayed silent, and remained that way until they unloaded their burdens onto the caravan.

  
He stared at the ground and shuffled awkwardly. Lavellan wanted to apologize; she obviously shouldn't have joked about death so easily, given his past, but Cole spoke up before she could even open her mouth.

  
"Spirits don't die." He said simply. He shuffled around for a few seconds more, and then met the Inquisitor's eyes. "I wish you were a spirit."

  
So she wouldn't die. She took his hands in her own and smiled sadly. "I'm not going anywhere yet, Cole. Don't worry about me. I'm an elf; I'll live a bit longer than most, anyways. Or so they say."

  
He squeezed her hands tightly and threw himself into her arms. She caught him -just barely, without falling over- and wrapped her arms around him as he silently began to cry. He did this, from time to time. Her theory was that human emotion overwhelmed the spirit, and this was the only way he knew how to release it.  
He feared her death. A warmth spread throughout her chest. She felt the same way about the possibility of forgetting him. Cole was the greatest friend she's come to have since being appointed to Inquisitor, and nothing would come between them.

  
"I suppose I'll have to live forever," she whispered into his shoulder, "just for you."

  
Cole just squeezed her tighter. He smelled of the Fade, of dreams forgotten in the waking hours. It reminded her of the dangerous task the Inquisition was assigned. It was very possible she could die in battle. Today, tomorrow; perhaps Cole's fears weren't unfounded. She could feel his breath on her neck, his tears sliding down her shoulder. He was shaking, but his thumb traced even circles on the back of her neck. It was probably meant to soothe him more than herself, but it did help.

  
The sun was warm on their backs, and there was a nice breeze weaving through the campsite. Lavellan would have began to doze if she weren't standing in the middle of the bustling army, all packing their gear and preparing for the march. The clink of metal armor and the thump of wooden supply crates and wagons sounded like a strange music, lifting her spirits. The elven woman began to stroke Cole's hair, the way she would to soothe a child.

  
"We should rally the others," she whispered. "It's a long march west to the old keep. I need to make sure everyone's prepared. Care to join me?"

  
He pulled back from her, and the look on his puffy, tear-stained face said it all: there was no way in the void he'd part from her. Lavellan threaded her fingers through his, and began walking.

  
"If you're afraid of losing me," she ventured. "Then make sure you spend every second enjoying the time we have together. Living your life in fear is hardly living at all, Cole."

  
"Lavellan."

  
"Hm?"

  
"Thank you."

 

* * *

 

 


End file.
